It was the best sleep I'd ever had in my life.
2
The HSSC was composed of highly-trained agents engaged in a silent war. I learned a lot about it in the following weeks. I looked at maps, astonished to learn the city that comprised my whole world was called Chicago and was just a tiny dot in a much larger stretch of land called a country. The country was divided into sections called territories. The HSSC operated out of the United Havens, which took up much of the northwestern territory. Southaven claimed much of the southeast, while the middle portion was divided between Hinterland and a large territory called Texas. The west was Allied Havens territory and Reclaimed Mexico.
I learned that an event called the Cataclysm occurred when the territories were called the United States, and people survived the fallout in the Havens. But a large populace also survived outside the Havens, creating new civilizations while the Haven residents hibernated in stasis. Upon awakening, the Haven government discovered the world they were supposed to reboot had gone on without them. The United Havens were determined to reclaim their lost territories and reestablish their power and influence through any means at their disposal. That was where the HSSC came into play.
"This is your testing ground," Deacon said. He led classes for the most promising students, studying his charges with a sharp-eyed gaze. Assessing us for strengths and weaknesses, how best to use us in his wildly complex missions.
"You will be given assignments. You are expected to complete them without question. Any deviance from your orders will result in your removal from the program. Any insubordination will result in your removal from the program. Any failure will result in your removal from the program. Is that understood?"
I shouted my assent along with the rest of the children. It didn't matter to me what my orders were. I had regular meals, a clean bed, and a community I belonged in. It was as if I'd been transported into another world, some paradise I never imagined existed. I never questioned the daily contests over meals, bunks, or supplies. I didn't think about the reasons for training with weapons and hand-to-hand combat. I never bothered to think about what happened to the weaker children, the ones who never won at anything and slowly dwindled away. I focused only on whatever my orders were, and on Natalie. I took my cues from her, and we became the perfect tag team. We worked together to eliminate any opponent, threat, or challenge to our status as squad leaders. Natalie was a planet, and I was the moon that revolved around her, eternally bonded by the gravitational pull of her persona.
We formed a tight unit with our choice of the best prospects from our group. Bernard healed up and wised up at the same time, falling in as our muscle when we needed it. Level-headed Frankie was our tech nut, an expert hacker even at the age of thirteen. Twins Harry and Larry were loyal to the bone, ready to jump at anything we asked. And then there was Kelly. She rarely spoke, but followed us around like a sullen dog. Something was broken inside. Natalie said she'd come in handy, so we kept her around.
Our assignments started off as small tasks. Most of the time it was listening. The HSSC had surveillance everywhere, but everyone knew that. Anyone with secrets took steps to avoid, eliminate, or smother the drones, digital taps, cameras, and bugs. But no one looked twice at children. We found ways to infiltrate areas that normal surveillance couldn't penetrate and reported what we saw and heard. The HSSC fixated on 'dissenters,' which I quickly learned was anyone whose philosophy differed from the Havens.
Natalie and I usually split up for reconnaissance assignments. She would get dolled up and find ways into high society functions, while I returned to my old haunts in the ghettos and slums, spying on the dirty dealings that went on in the muck. I didn't like being away from Natalie for long, but I loyally stuck to my assignments. Many of the factions and guilds in the city used coded lingo and messaging to communicate, and I had a knack for breaking down the code and uncovering pertinent information. Working together, our crew quickly advanced, outgrowing the novice quarters and moving up into the junior ranks.
I had just turned thirteen when we were summoned to report for our first major assignment.
We entered the top floor of the building. Deacon stood facing the massive windows, staring at the towering buildings with his hands clasped behind his back. Tiny lights winked in the tiny studs attached to his temples, indicating he was reviewing data through his holovisor, visible only to his cybernetic eyes. He ignored us for a few minutes, lost in his introspection. We waited until he finally spoke.
"Do you know what the history of this city is? In a word: corruption. It's been that way since its inception. Violence, Mafioso, greed, gang wars, oppression. Before the Cataclysm, the Council thought about establishing a Haven here. The notion was rejected because of Chicago's refusal to rise above its complacency. Their leadership avoided hard decisions and accepted the status quo because that's the way it's always been. We thought the Cataclysm would turn the city into a ghost town. But it lingered on like some festering wound, a cancer that returns no matter what the treatment. Yet their leaders still refuse to submit to the lawful governing of the Havens. They'd rather give their city to the animals and continue to profit from their ruination."
He turned to look at us. "Do you know how to bring a place like this to heel? You give them what they want. You flood the slums with guns, drugs, and alcohol, then let the fireworks explode. You fill the pockets of politicians so they turn a blind eye to legislation that could turn things around. You give enough handouts to the poor, so they feel it's better being unproductive. You hook the populace on addictive distractions, so they don't pay attention to the vampirization of their own people. You create conflicting stories and sell them to opposing news networks, so no one trusts what they're told. Then you wait until the place implodes under the weight of its own chaos."
A wry smile thinned his lips. "But what does any of that mean to you? You're here for your assignment. I've been monitoring your progress. Already have a tight crew and pulling in top-notch work. That's good. I'm giving you a top-level assignment this time. Prove you can handle it and you'll fast-track your way to Agent status in no time. Drop the ball, and you're out of the program. Understand? Have a seat."
He opened the holoband on his wrist, flicking a projection onto the wall. It was a holographic image of a middle-aged black man. Close cut hair and beard. Serious expression but friendly eyes.
"This is Daniel King, a faith-centered candidate for mayor. The election is only weeks away, and against all the odds, King has emerged as a frontrunner. His message of hope and change for a city in desperate need of both resonates with constituents suffering from poverty, violence, and drug use running rampant through their neighborhoods. King was raised in the inner city, familiar with the problems that plague it. He champions youth and literacy programs, and fights for business investments while supporting the Responder organization, bridging relations between law enforcement and the citizens.
Deacon paused, frowning. "The HSSC hates guys like him. He's everything we fight against. A beacon for the masses to embrace, threatening to eliminate the work we've spent so much time developing. Some other time I might admire him for his naïve tenacity. But right now he's in the way of history. No matter what we do, he persists in running that silver tongue of his, even publicly naming the HSSC as the biggest threat facing the city. He's gotten too big, and that has to be dealt with."